Jeremy and I went to visit Kembra Pfahler the other day, and pretty much spent the day in the East Village with the performance artist, actress and frontwoman of The Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black. We started out in her apartment drinking coffee and laughing before we headed out for breakfast, to keep talking about life, people, and everything. Later on, we walked around and she took me to a santeria store, where I bought something called fortune teller soap ("made with genuine dream oil"). To me, Kembra is––together with Kenneth Anger or Bruce LaBruce––someone who is her art, completely and fully. The day was so uplifting. Read on to see why.
AS: When did you arrive in New York?
KP: 1979––thanks for getting me all this delicious coffee.
AS: You're welcome. So why the East Village?
KP: All the young people were here––all the bands and the music––mostly just because it was where you could afford to live. I really don't know how much longer I'll get to be here. I'm 50 years old now and I got here when I was 17. You could get apartments for $200 a month then.
AS: Why did you paint your entire apartment red?
KP: Oh, just so it would match and, you know, I feel more like a decorator than an artist. Even when I do shows. You know extreme sports? I'm an extreme decorator. [Laughs.]
AS: Where did you find that giant cross that's in your hallway?
KP: Across the street, there used to be a fantastic nightclub called The World. Recently, it was turned into high-rise condominiums. But back then in order to stay open, they allowed this church to open downstairs. This cross comes from that church––it's an excellent church actually. You can sing there. I love group singing, do you?
AS: Yeah, somewhat. Does the cross mean anything religious to you?
KP: Well to me it's not a religious symbol, it's just garbage. I found it, I didn't seek it out. It comes from across the street in the spirit of availablism––which makes the best use of what's available.
AS: Would you say you're drawn to ceremony though, in the sense of choreography and group leadership?
KP: I appreciate ceremony the same way I appreciate Christmas, because it's sort of like taking an aesthetic holiday. I think it's nice to have fun and make a myth. It's something to do, like shooting heroin or whatever else you do with other people. Eat lunch. It's like brain candy––making ceremonies stimulates your soul more than your mind. It's pleasurable in a very deep, nourishing way that isn't about seeking out pleasurable things that make you feel bad. Decorating and ceremony lift the spirits, don't you think?
AS: Yeah, but it's also interesting to see a group leader onstage and feeling their power.
KP: I guess so. The person who's the leader is pretty much the guinea pig who is pushed in front first. The psychology of a leader is very deep. And I try not to examine it carefully but I know I need to. I want to be a benevolent band leader and not an aesthetic fascist. I have to be open-minded in all my group activities, in the spirit of collaboration. I would like to gather people in the spirit of re-decorating or changing how we see the world aesthetically and spiritually.
AS: There's a sense of discipline that the viewer gets when you're onstage with the girls.
KP: Yes, it's very serious and disciplined. I grew up in Los Angeles, okay, in the late 70s. So I had to come up with something to knock all the extreme punk rockers off t
AS: When did you arrive in New York?
KP: 1979––thanks for getting me all this delicious coffee.
AS: You're welcome. So why the East Village?
KP: All the young people were here––all the bands and the music––mostly just because it was where you could afford to live. I really don't know how much longer I'll get to be here. I'm 50 years old now and I got here when I was 17. You could get apartments for $200 a month then.
AS: Why did you paint your entire apartment red?
KP: Oh, just so it would match and, you know, I feel more like a decorator than an artist. Even when I do shows. You know extreme sports? I'm an extreme decorator. [Laughs.]
AS: Where did you find that giant cross that's in your hallway?
KP: Across the street, there used to be a fantastic nightclub called The World. Recently, it was turned into high-rise condominiums. But back then in order to stay open, they allowed this church to open downstairs. This cross comes from that church––it's an excellent church actually. You can sing there. I love group singing, do you?
AS: Yeah, somewhat. Does the cross mean anything religious to you?
KP: Well to me it's not a religious symbol, it's just garbage. I found it, I didn't seek it out. It comes from across the street in the spirit of availablism––which makes the best use of what's available.
AS: Would you say you're drawn to ceremony though, in the sense of choreography and group leadership?
KP: I appreciate ceremony the same way I appreciate Christmas, because it's sort of like taking an aesthetic holiday. I think it's nice to have fun and make a myth. It's something to do, like shooting heroin or whatever else you do with other people. Eat lunch. It's like brain candy––making ceremonies stimulates your soul more than your mind. It's pleasurable in a very deep, nourishing way that isn't about seeking out pleasurable things that make you feel bad. Decorating and ceremony lift the spirits, don't you think?
AS: Yeah, but it's also interesting to see a group leader onstage and feeling their power.
KP: I guess so. The person who's the leader is pretty much the guinea pig who is pushed in front first. The psychology of a leader is very deep. And I try not to examine it carefully but I know I need to. I want to be a benevolent band leader and not an aesthetic fascist. I have to be open-minded in all my group activities, in the spirit of collaboration. I would like to gather people in the spirit of re-decorating or changing how we see the world aesthetically and spiritually.
AS: There's a sense of discipline that the viewer gets when you're onstage with the girls.
KP: Yes, it's very serious and disciplined. I grew up in Los Angeles, okay, in the late 70s. So I had to come up with something to knock all the extreme punk rockers off t